


Second Chance at a First Impression

by Tintinnabulation_of_the_Bells



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Family Feels, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Tim Drake is Robin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:35:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27677489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tintinnabulation_of_the_Bells/pseuds/Tintinnabulation_of_the_Bells
Summary: Tim's first encounter with Dick Grayson involved him barging into the man's life, demanding that he return to the role of Robin. Now Tim is about to begin his Robin training, only to find himself intruding once more into the first Robin's life. He can only hope this time will be a bit easier.
Relationships: Tim Drake & Dick Grayson
Comments: 5
Kudos: 82
Collections: Dick Grayson Fic Exchange 2020





	Second Chance at a First Impression

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ace_corvid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ace_corvid/gifts).



> Ace_corvid: So, this is a little shorter than I intended, but finals got the best of me and I haven't had as much time to write as I would have liked. I'm also not as used to writing Tim, but I do enjoy his character, especially when he's just a baby Robin trying to find his way in an impossible situation. I hope this provides the beginnings of the big-brother vibes you were looking for.

The first time Tim thinks he’s made a mistake is five seconds into his training session as Robin.

Actually, it’s not even his training session yet, so maybe he’s in negative time? Like negative one hour minutes to the time his actual training session is supposed to begin. T-minus-one hour. He’s not even supposed to be down here in the cave at all without supervision, but Alfred told him Bruce was running late and he should feel free to amuse himself throughout all parts of the manor before rushing off into the distance. If Alfred doesn’t forbid a section of the house, then Tim decides he can probably justify his presence there. Though he’d taken no photographs of Alfred, found no evidence of Alfred’s overt complicity with Batman and Robin’s nightly activities, he’d always known that the man had to be involved. After Robin left, there still had to be someone working with Batman, even from the shadows, and all of his research into Bruce Wayne the man had revealed only one real possibility.

Still, he’s surprised by the degree to which Alfred seems to control the operations within the house. Even when he’s Batman, when he’s under this roof, Bruce Wayne seems to defer to his butler.

Alfred told him to amuse himself throughout the manor, but there’s really only one place he wants to see. He’s been the Batcave before, of course, but this time, he’s going to belong. He is going to be _Robin_ , as much a part of the infrastructure of the operation as the Batmobile and the bats themselves that flutter throughout the cavernous void of the cave itself. So he descends without question, and he spends his mental energy on suppressing his excitement until he’d at least 75% sure he won’t immediately embarrass himself. He wonders if anything’s changed since his first visit. Will he find a new Robin suit waiting for him, one tailored to the contours of his own body? Will he find an array of weapons waiting patiently on a table for Bruce to demonstrate their use?

What he finds instead is Dick Grayson. And Dick Grayson is pale, entirely unconscious, and lying across a medical bed at one end of the cave.

For a moment, Tim’s afraid he’s dead, so pale is Dick’s face, but then his chest rises and falls in a stuttering motion and he realizes the faint beeping echoing around the cave is actually the sound of a heart monitor.

Tim’s met Dick Grayson before, but that was when he’d just tracked down the man he knew to be Nightwing. Back then, Batman and Nightwing were faceless, looming figures in the night, towering over him in his dreams as they inspired both fear and awe. Now, he’s still a little terrified, still a little awestruck, but he also knows if he’s going to succeed as Robin, he has to start seeing them as people first. Because God only knows he’s as human as they come.

Tim tiptoes his way over to the bed. The faint tap of his shoes across the floor makes him cringe, but there’s also no way he can walk entirely in silence. Not yet anyways.

Fortunately, Dick doesn’t stir despite the noise. His breathing remains even, or at least as even as it was before, and the heart monitor beeps away steadily. As he approaches, he realizes that Dick is shirtless, albeit half-covered by a sheet. One of his arms rests in a sling, but neither the sheet nor the fabric of the sling can entirely obscure the lurid bruising that stains his chest. Another tube feeds oxygen into Dick’s nostrils. None of it seems life threatening, and the fact that neither Alfred nor Bruce are sitting vigil indicates that the situation isn’t urgent. But it must be serious enough if Dick is lying in the cave here instead of in his own Bludhaven home.

A chair sits right next to Dick’s bed, indicating that while no one was there now, someone had been there previously, waiting for him to wake up, or perhaps just watching over him. Without thinking further, Tim drops into the seat himself.

His haphazard plunk into the chair causes it to screech back several inches, loud enough that several bats flap and chitter in displeasure. Loud enough too, it seems, to awaken Dick after Tim had tried so hard to let him sleep.

Dick’s eyes flutter open hazily and gaze aimlessly at the cave around him before finally alighting on Tim. To Dick’s credit, he allows no more than a flinch of surprise to cross his face, even though he would certainly not have been expecting a strange visitor.

Tim watches as Dick swallows and clears his throat. Then Dick whispers in a rasp that brings sympathetic pain to Tim’s throat, “What are you doing here?”

It’s not an accusation. If anything, Dick sounds genuinely curious, or as curious as someone only a minute removed from sleep can be.

“I’m starting training today,” he says. “To be Robin.”

“Where’s Bruce?”

“I don’t know. Alfred told me I could explore until he was ready for me. But I figured I’ll end up here anyways for training, so I might as well come early. Get the lay of the land, see what I’m working with. Which weapons I’ll be using.”

Dick seems almost amused by that statement. “You’re not using any weapons.”

“Of course I am. I know Batman doesn’t use guns, but everything else, knives, batarangs, staffs—

“I mean, you’re not using them today.”

Tim sits back in the chair. “And why not?”

“Because,” says Dick, and Tim was right, he’s definitely a little amused, “it’s your first day. Bruce will probably just have you practice falling. And maybe a kick or two.”

“Oh.” He hangs his head in embarrassment. He can’t help the disappointment that leeches into that one syllable, even if Dick’s words are absolutely common sense. Of course Batman would start with the basics; Batman was thorough, prepared, and highly trained, while Tim was just some boy with a camera and enough dogged persistence to find out the truth. None of those translated into any physical capabilities.

When he lifts his head, he sees Dick smiling. It’s a tired smile to be sure, but it seems genuine enough. “The first rule of flying is that you need to know how to fall. If you can fall safely, you’ll have the time to learn how to do everything else.”

“Is that what you did to end up here? Fall, I mean?” The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them, and he cringes. What was he thinking?

Dick contemplates Tim’s statement with far more gravity than Tim ever expected. “A little bit. I did fall, and it did hurt, but that’s not why I’m here.”

“Then why are you here?” asks Tim, pressing his luck.

“An unfortunate series of events,” says Dick. “Turns out cracked ribs and smoke inhalation don’t mix, especially when you’re already running on fumes so to speak. I wasn’t really in any position to fight Bruce off when he decided to take me here.” He grins a little as Tim’s face falls. “Don’t worry, I’ll be out of here by tomorrow. I could even leave here now, but I’m in no rush. And it keeps Alfred happy.”

“You’re working with Batman again?” Tim’s mind is whirring through the implications here. If Nightwing is working with Batman, then maybe Batman won’t need a new Robin, especially one as untrained and untested as Tim. Nightwing’s proven himself countless times over the years.

Dick tilts his head against the pillow and winces slightly. “He came to me in Bludhaven. I wasn’t answering my comms properly so he decided to perform a little health and safety check. Then he took me back here.”

Well, that sounds…less like they’re working together, and more like Bruce caring about his son. The latter conclusion is definitely good, but the first one…

“I can go,” he whispers. “You’re here, and obviously I’d just be in the way, so—

Dick grips Tim’s shoulder with surprising strength for a man who’s admitted to have broken several bones in the recent past. “You’re not in the way.”

Tim shakes his head. “You’re hurt. Bruce will be spending time with you.”

“You think Bruce has nothing better to do than sit at my bedside while I doze off? Kid, if he’s not training you, he’s not going to be with me. Not for most of the day at least. In fact, you’re doing me a favor. Bruce can be a little…overprotective at the best of times, and in recent times, well…”

Right, of course. Obviously Bruce would be a little paranoid about his older son after losing his younger one so recently.

“Look,” says Dick, straightening up a little against the pillows at his neck. The activity renewed some of the color in his cheeks, even if he still looks decidedly ill. “I’m going back to Bludhaven as soon as Alfred decides I’m not going to faint on the trip back. I have things to do there, you know. A job. A life. I’m only visiting for now. Trust me, I won’t be interfering with your Robin routine once you’re on the streets.”

“Okay,” says Tim. “Okay, I guess.” He stands abruptly. “I’m going to go up now. To the kitchen. See if Bruce is ready for me.” He peers down at Dick. “Do you, uh, do you need anything?”

Dick chuckles a little as he presses his hand against his ribs. “I’m fine. Probably just going to nap a little more. I hadn’t slept in forty hours when Batman brought me in last night.”

With that information, Tim can’t say he blames Bruce for performing the occasional wellness check.

Tim’s halfway up the stairs when Dick calls, “Tim!”

Tim turns slowly. What now? Has Dick changed his mind? Has he remembered something, like how Batman has a test that Tim is expected to fail before he can become Robin? Is Dick in pain?

“Yes?” he says, just loud enough for Dick to hear across the expanse of the cave.

Dick sinks back into his pillow and blinks up at him with bleary yet teasing eyes. “Once you’re trained and settled on the streets, let me know. It would be nice to have the company on patrol every now and again.”

Tim feels his face crack into a smile. “I will.”

As he closes the door to the cave, he decides that he stands firm on his earlier decision. Even if Tim doesn’t fully fit into this weird world just yet, Batman needs a Robin and Tim is the only one who seems to fully realize the depth of this need. So Tim will do his duty and fulfill whatever role Batman needs him to play, whatever role Bruce Wayne needs him to play.

Batman needs a Robin, but maybe Nightwing feels a little lonely too. Maybe Dick Grayson needs a brother.

And Tim’ll be damned if he doesn’t give that role a try too.


End file.
